Snapshot of a Gryphon
by The-Lemon-Thrower
Summary: Jus' a little story I did for a school project involving gryphons... One Shot, way past the events of Knights of the Old Republic


Snapshot of a Gryphon

Aero soared through the stormy clouds of my miserable life when I was turning thirteen years old. I found the speedy little gryphon rummaging through a trash pile on the ocean world of Manaan where I was about to have a 'birthday party;' obviously searching for food, as I could see his ribs through the dark-brown fur covering his torso. The normally snow-white feathers on his neck and head were turning a brownish-grey, and clumps of his fur were falling out. Gryphons aren't native to Manaan, so I knew someone had dumped him there off a ship. I had to do _something_ about him, otherwise he probably would have died. Getting my parents to accept him wasn't easy, though. Our family had never had a pet bigger than a gizka. Plus, it would cost a lot of credits to feed and take care of him. The only way I could persuade them was to make Aero my birthday present.

At first, Aero was hard to take care of. My brother, Kranth, and I had a whole new slew of orders to carry out each Telosian night, or face the dire consequences of allowance removal. That wasn't the only thing, though. He had such a loud and piercing voice that, when he talked in his sleep, would wake the whole house up. Once during the night, he was having a nightmare, so you can guess what that meant. Only this time, so I assume, it was a life/death situation in his dream. His screams were so noisy they woke the entire neighborhood up. That morning my parents decided to blackmail me more: it was either train him or get rid of him. Training him would be easy. Or so I thought.

Kranth and I went through so many books on pet training that I couldn't remember anything involving what I had learned in the last few weeks of school. Maybe it was just me, but I also noticed a lot of things going 'missing' before we trained Aero to do what we told him to. Finally, after two long months of brutal back-breaking labor, Kranth and I finished Aero's training. We had taught him to sit, lie down, stay, stand up, follow, and his least favorite (he was extremely reluctant to bring the stick back), fetch. There was only one thing left to do to see if our work had paid off: a trial. At the time, we didn't know that Aero was ready for anything of the sort. We soon found out our underestimation. One bright day in the park, Aero and I were just sitting around; I sketching the visions in my head, Aero enviously but restrainedly eying the ysalamiri clinging to the trees. Then, noticeably, he heard something coming from the grassy field next to the park. Both of us walked quietly over, leaned over the tall fence, and saw multiple humanoid species individually leading gryphons and hippogryphs through the various obstacles covering the ground. Aero's eyes sparkled with fascination. I looked over to him quickly enough to see a tuft of fur disappear behind the fence. I did not want him to embarrass himself, but as soon as I saw his speed and agility, I held myself back in sheer amazement. Once he went through the entire course I heard the astonished announcer, looked up at the scoreboard, and nearly fainted on the spot. The competing creatures had been flattened, rolled up, and tossed aside. From that point on I vowed never to underestimate Aero again.

I never really had a dull day with Aero after that event. Once he had realized his 'potential,' he became confident in himself. Then, he started standing up for the little guys; I was amused and yet dumbstruck at the concept. The day I saw his first battle was deep in September, when I had entered eighth grade. Apparently, a Denorian wolf-dog had cornered a young kath hound in an alleyway of Tellor, the only city on Telos' surface. I and Aero were out for an afternoon walk when we strolled by the alley; Aero immediately started 'growling,' if that's what you could call it. The wolf-dog accepted his challenging, overestimating himself, by leaping at Aero. He met the wolf-dog's assault, slashing with dulled claws at his opponent's chest. All the way through the battle, I attempted to restrain Aero, but to no avail. From what I could gather, Aero had a very intelligent battle strategy: he found his opponent's weakness in their strengths, manipulating their overconfidence in themselves. When the Denorian wolf-dog finally gave up, horned tail between his legs, he ran off. Aero was practically glowing with pride. I quickly gave the kath hound half of the gryphon treats in my pocket, looked at the tag on his collar, and returned him to his owner. That night Aero received double servings of his dinner.

Each time we found a poor, defenseless animal under siege by a big, tough bully, Aero proved invaluable on the battlefield. Through thick and thin, his confidence, smarts, and knack for battle brought him through to victory. Only one time in his life did he ever come close to defeat. He was defending a golden ice-cat who was attack by a Malachorian storm beast. Storm beasts are fierce and brutal fighters, and were never domesticated due to the sinister influence of their homeworld, so it is a wonder how one got here. The battle between Aero and the storm beast dragged on and on, neither seeming to want to give up, but both taking near-fatal hits. Then, the storm beast introduced _his_ strategy. He sped up his blows, not allowing Aero to even dodge away. A final blow knocked Aero to the ground, fur matted and feathers stained, gasping for breath. The storm beast stepped over him, placed a claw onto his neck, and prepared for the fatal strike. That was where he made his mistake. Aero opened his eyes, swung his leg around, and tripped the storm beast. Storm beasts may be brutal fighters, but they are clumsy on their feet. The fight carried on for not very long; Aero used his base strategy, claiming the victory for himself.

After that battle, I never took Aero, or anything for that matter, for granted in my whole life.


End file.
